Before I met Vitos (whose picture is up there), there was Rebel.
Rebel was hairy. It had eyes that spoke of danger, a physique that sprayed fear. But if you went close to it, you’d see a dog that wanted friends. It allowed me to stroke its back and head.
It’d sit at my feet. It’d run to me and walk me to my house. It’d wait for me outside my house. Rebel was our neighborhood dog. I felt its loyalty.
Then I met Vitos. A dog with a child’s heart. It’d roll on the floor showing its playful side. It’d move its tail in a cheerful motion. It’d stand with eyes of innocence looking at me.
Vitos spoke a language of animal love. It too sat at my feet just Rebel. It allowed me to feed it. It stayed close to me.
Rebel was a hustler, a dog that fed on what it could. I met Rebel in Kampala. Vitos was privileged enough to have owners who love him. I met Vitos in Germany. I like both dogs.
I didn’t think I was a dog person. This post seems to suggest otherwise.
So, puppies or kittens?